


Jawnhog, A Big Friend for a Little Detective

by embalmer56, princessladybug



Series: The Adventures of Baby Sherlock and Daddy Watson. [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Hedgehogs, Implied Relationships, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embalmer56/pseuds/embalmer56, https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessladybug/pseuds/princessladybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The collected adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Jawnhog Watson Holmes. </p><p>Or how Sherlock became the proud daddy of a hedgehog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Gift

**Author's Note:**

> -Unbeta'd gift for Emmy's day of Birth!!!! <3  
> -I promise to come in and clean it up more later, just got super excited!  
> -Not brit picked.  
> -Sorry for the length of time between updates. Real life stinks big time!!!  
> -We are not responsible for the dentist bills d/t the tooth rotting fluff :-D
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMMY!!!!!! <3

"And then we saw the tigers and one of the tigers was swimming! They were Bengal tigers, My!" John smiled at his laptop as he listened to Sherlock chatter into the mobile while he paced about the sitting room.

"And I got to pat a goat and a lamb! And there were lots of bunnies, but they didn't glow in the dark. I inves'agated a bunny that glowed in the dark, his name was Bluebell." Sherlock paused and made a face.

"No! I already was on punishment for that, My! Daddy says I can't get in trouble twice for the same thing!" Sherlock huffed, thrusting the phone at John. "Tell My I can't be in trouble for that anymore, Daddy!"

John cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock, causing him to look at the floor and shuffle his feet. John took the phone from Sherlock and pressed it to his ear. "He's right Mycroft. He can't be punished for what happened at Baskerville again, but if he isn't careful he'll be in trouble for his current attitude." 

Sherlock pouted at John through his fringe and looked about to tantrum before John ran a hand down his arm, gripping the boy's hand. "Yes, we had an excellent time. We ran into a bit of a snag when someone tried to use a marker to change the sign at the sun bear exhibit, but otherwise…” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand before he could retort. “Yes, they had them listed under the wrong genus. We alerted the staff…But Sherlock hasn't told you the best bit about the zoo though,” John took the phone from his ear and handed it back to Sherlock. “Why don’t you tell him about the hedgies.”

“Oh!” Sherlock took the phone back, hopping on the balls of his feet. “My! They had hedgehogs! They were European Pygmy Hedgehogs. They’re an endangered species.” Sherlock stared at John’s fingers, tracing patterns in his palm as he pecked away at the keyboard one handed. “No My, ones at pet stores are African Pygmy Hedgehogs. I was gunna make a blog post about it but my laptop’s still on restriction.” Sherlock said, giving John a pointed look. “I’m not sure, but I don’t deserve being on restriction.”

John just chuckles and shakes his head, not bothering to acknowledge the reproachful look of his little one. Computer restriction seemed an appropriate punishment for hacking Lestrade’s email account.

“They make excellent pets….”

“No pets.” John says mostly to the screen of his laptop.

“I always wanted one, but Mummy said no rodents. I tried to explain that they aren’t rodents, they are insectivores.”

“Sherlock…”

“Daddy; it’s very rude to interrupt my phone conversation. You tell me all the time.”

John huffs a sigh, “I think that’s enough chatting on the phone today; say goodbye to Mycroft, Pet.”

“Bye Mycroft.” Sherlock bites out, handing the phone to John before he can hear the reply.

“Hullo Mycroft, Sherlock is going to take a nap so he’ll have to chat with you later. Thanks so much again for the tickets to the zoo, we really had a lovely time.” John said giving Sherlock’s bottom a meaningful pat. “Ta’, good day then.”

“I don’t need a nap.”

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree there. Go lie down and I’ll be in in a few minutes for your tuck in.”

“I have to take a nap because you interrupted my conversation?”

“Nope, cause it’s nap time.” John smirked. “Go on then.”

Sherlock huffed and turned on his heel and stomped through the kitchen and down the hall.

“I’m going to need juice and a story if I’m to pretend to nap!” Sherlock tossed over his shoulder.

John rolled his eyes and got up to fetch some juice.

***

“I can’t believe those idiots. A complete waste of cab fare!” Sherlock moaned, slamming in the front door and up the steps.

“Luckily you rarely pay the cab fare.” John commented, but there was not heat to it. He closed the door quietly and followed Sherlock up the stairs. They’d have to have another discussion about slamming doors.

“I fail to see what that has to do with the complete incompetence of every member of Scotland Yard, especially Gerald.” Sherlock stood at the top of the stairs, hands on his hips.

“Greg.” John said, shaking his head and putting his coat on the hook. “He’s a friend of ours; it wouldn’t kill you to learn his name.”

“Tedious.” Sherlock huffed, tugging at his scarf.

John just shook his head again; he refused to be drawn into an argument. He walked into the kitchen. “Tea?”

“I thought a stampede was coming up the stairs. But then I realized it was only Sherlock having a strop.” Came a cool mannered voice from the living room.

“What are you doing here Mycroft?” Sherlock grumbled from the landing, fighting the buttons on his coat.

“Apologies Mycroft, he’s in a mood. Cuppa?” John moved about the kitchen efficiently, putting on the kettle and looking for cleanish mugs.

“That would be delightful, John. Thank you.”

“Don’t apologize for me and don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.” Sherlock snipped, throwing his coat onto the coffee table. Mycroft smiled at him indulgently.

“I had quite hoped that you would be small for my visit, dear brother. We do get on so much better then.” Sherlock pulled a face at Mycroft before flopping onto the sofa, rolling so his back was to the room.

“Cream or sugar?” John called from the kitchen. “Sherlock! What in hell happened to the cream?”

Mycroft watched his younger brother flinch and squirm on the sofa with a touch of a smile. He’d hated seeing Sherlock in trouble when they were younger, but this was oddly satisfying.

“Experiment.” Sherlock mumbled to the back of the sofa, hunching his shoulders.

“You’re going to the shop later and buying more. No excuses.”

“I hate the shop.”

“Sorry Mycroft, apparently all we have is sugar.”

“Just sugar is fine.” Mycroft said, accepting the cup.

John scoped the large coat off of the coffee table and left a cup of tea there. “So is this a social call or have you come about a case?” John asked as he hung Sherlock’s coat on the peg in the hallway.

“I’d actually stopped by because I have a gift for Sherlock. But as he clearly doesn’t deserve a treat, perhaps it can wait for another time.”

John hummed his agreement as he fell into his chair, cuppa in hand.

Sherlock turned to glare at them. Two mind spaces clearly at war on his face. He’d been struggling to stay big all day, but had been trying to bait John into pulling rank; it hadn’t worked. “I said not to talk about me as if I’m not here.” He attempted to snarl, but it came out closer to a whinge. He felt close to tears but he’d been so poorly behaved he wasn’t sure if anyone would offer him the cuddle that he was suddenly desperate for.

“Come here Pet.” John said softly, putting his cup on the table and tipping his head. Sherlock whimpered at him. “I know Love. Come on.” Without further invitation he bounded over the coffee table, barely missing the full mug of tea, and was in John’s lap in two strides. He buried his face in Daddy’s shoulder and gripped two handfuls of his jumper. Daddy stroked him and murmured nonsense into his curls.

They stayed that way for so long that Sherlock had forgotten Mycroft was in the room until he got up to make more tea.

“Sorry.” Sherlock snuffled into Daddy’s neck. John just shook his head and gave him a squeeze.

“It’s alright little love, but perhaps you should apologize to our guest.”

Sherlock grumbled into Daddy’s neck but obediently offered a meek apology when Mycroft returned to the sitting room, handing him a toddler cup of sweet tea.

“It’s quite alright.” Mycroft waved dismissively, settling back in Sherlock’s chair. “Unfortunately, I do have an appointment I must keep so I can’t spend the afternoon. Would you like your present before I leave?”

Sherlock fidgeted with the cup in his hands and glanced up at Daddy before nodding shyly.

“Words, Sherlock.” Daddy patted his thigh.

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

Mycroft smiled warmly as he lifted a small, neatly wrapped box off the ground and sat it in Sherlock’s lap. The little detective traced the ribbon with his finger tip, still shy, until the box moved. Dark curls whipped in Mycroft’s direction. “My?”

John looked between them, suddenly concerned. “What’s in the box, Mycroft?

“Open it, Sherlock.” Mycroft smirked into his tea.

Sherlock slowly pulled the lid off of the box, revealing a tiny white face with dark eyes. The hedgehog pulled itself onto its hind legs and sniffed the air, making tiny grunting noises.

“Oh!”

“Christ Mycroft! I said no pets! Especially not exotic pets! Couldn’t you have got him a goldfish instead?”

“I already have one of those.” Sherlock mumbled, pulling his new friend out of his cardboard enclosure and touching their noses together.

“Indeed.” Mycroft chuckled.

John glared between them, but when neither of them offered an explanation, changed tactics. “What do we feed it?”

“It eats cat food and fresh vegetables. It will also eat jarred baby food; which will give Sherlock the excuse he’s been looking for to try it himself.” Mycroft said with a soft grin, watching a blush run across Sherlock’s cheeks. “Anthea will leave a bag of kibble and a few jars of baby food when she brings up the rest of the supplies shortly.”

John huffed and turned back to Sherlock who had gone very still in his lap. The hedgie had settled inside his collar, its tiny nose peeking out, scenting the air. Sherlock’s eyes where half lidded, his hands folded in his lap. John sighed, knowing he’d lost before he’d even begun.

“What shall the hedgie’s name be then, Pet?”

“Jawnhog.” Sherlock mumbled softly.

“Right. Wait, what?”

“He looks like you.” A smile played on his lips as Mycroft started to laugh aloud.

“Would you believe that’s why I picked him out?” Mycroft chortled as he rose from his chair and dropped a kiss on the top of his brother’s head.

“What do you mean he looks like me? I look like a rodent?!”

“Shhh. He has very delicate ears. And he’s not a rodent, he’s an insectivore.”

“Your hedgehog supplies are here on the landing. Good day Sherlock, John.” Mycroft called over his shoulder as he made his way down the stairs, still chuckling.

“I’ll get even Mycroft!” John shouted after him. “I look like a chubby little hedgehog? Brilliant!”

“I think you’re both lovely.” Sherlock kissed John’s jaw.

John blushed brightly and shook his head. “Right. Well. Let’s find a place to keep your hedgie then, shall we?” Sherlock’s lopsided grin almost made up for being compared to a roly little hedgehog. Almost.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Kind of beta read. Emmy skimmed it. ^_^  
> 2\. Leave us comments about what mischief you want Sherlock and Jawnhog to get into.   
> 3\. Basically, just leave comments. We are like robots and that is the fuel to our batteries.   
> 4\. Uh. Emmy is posting this and does not know what else Stacy wants... so Happy Easter!

* * *

 

 

 

John rushes through the flat. Lestrade had called about a triple homicide, and after more than a week and a half without a case, both he and Sherlock were eager to get out of the flat.

 

“Hurry, John!" Sherlock shouts from the landing where he’s buttoning his coat.

"Yeah! Coming!”

 

“Three victims at the same time and no clear cause of death; magnificent!" John nods absently and stops at the desk to grab his mobile, sparing a glance at the metal animal pen there before turning away.

 

He makes it mostly to the door before pausing and turning back to the desk. “Sherlock...where is Jawnhog?"

“What?" Sherlock steps back into the room, tying his scarf.

 

"Where is Jawnhog? He's not in his pen.”

 

“We don’t have time for this now! I'm sure he's fine!" Sherlock says, turning out of the room again. "Wherever he is." The detective whispers to himself, fussing with his scarf. He can feel John staring at him suspiciously.

 

"We really should be going!”

 

“Sherlock." Suddenly John is behind him. With a firm hand on his bicep, John deftly spins him in place until he is face to face with the stormy face of Daddy. "Where is the hedgehog?" Sherlock rubs his lips together and looks anywhere but John's face.

 

“Do I need to count?" John asks, placing his free hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, rubbing gently. When he makes no move to reply, John starts the count.

 

"One." Sherlock shuffles his feet and makes an ineffectual attempt to pull his arm from Daddy's grip.

"Two."

 

"We need to go; the case." The whinge in his own voice makes Sherlock wince. If Daddy didn’t think he was guilty before, he does now.

 

John puts his hand on Sherlock's chin, tipping his head until they make eye contact. "We have a case right here to solve. Case of the missing hedgie."

 

John is looking at him hard and just as he’s about to say ‘three’, a tiny squeak draws both of their attention to the pocket of Sherlock's Belstaff, where Jawnhog is making a valiant effort to escape.

 

John's face scrunches in frustration as he pulls the squirmy little insectivore out of Sherlock’s pocket. He cradles the little creature to his chest and fixes Sherlock with his best Daddy glare.

 

Sherlock is squirming, a deep frown on his face. "I didn’t want him to be lonely. He’ll miss us while we're away." Sherlock mumbles to the floor. "And I’ll miss him too. “

 

John shakes his head as his free hand digs back into Sherlock’s pocket, pulling out a piece of fleece and several food pellets. John grits his teeth as he realizes that the fleece has been cut from the bee blanket Sherlock totes around when he's very little. He takes a breath and scolds himself; deal with one naughty thing at a time, John. His anger and his face soften as he looks at the pitiful expression on Sherlock’s face as he stares at Jawnhog.

 

“We can't take Jawnhog on an investigation, Sherlock. What if we have to chase someone? Or you fall down. Jawnhog could get very hurt.”

 

“But...he'll be lonesome without us. Who will feed him, and water him, and scratch his belly?" Sherlock looks on the verge of tears and John silently curses Mycroft, again, for getting Sherlock a pet.

 

"Well," John says, buying time as he formulates a response that he hopes will hold off the impending strop. "Mrs. Hudson may appreciate the company...he loves her biscuits and they could watch junk telly together." John watches carefully as Sherlock considers this.

 

Slowly the curly headed detective nods. “He does love biscuits…but junk telly will rot his brains. He's far too brilliant to be bothered with that." Sherlock states, nodding decisively.

 

“Right, well...we can ask her to watch something educational, so he'll learn while we're out."

 

Sherlock still looks unwilling to move so John adds, “And, if you miss him too much, I’m sure Mrs. Hudson would let you speak to him on the phone.”Sherlock’s face lights up like Christmas at the idea and John has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from becoming hysterical with laughter. How in hell would that even work? All well, as long as it got Sherlock moving out the door, they could jump that hurdle when they got there.

 

"Right. Okay. Come here, Jawnhog. Let’s go visit Mrs. Hudson." Eyes still bright with unshed tears Sherlock opens his hands, palms up, and John places the squirming Jawnhog into them. John watches as Sherlock turns and takes the stairs slowly, one at a time, murmuring soft words to his roly little friend the whole way. Shaking his head he turns and collects the hedgehog’s home off the desk before making his way downstairs.

 

Sherlock is already at Mrs. Hudson's front door, giving firm instructions on proper Jawnhog care. “He doesn't like tap water. And Daddy says he can't drink tea, but he likes it, so maybe a tiny bit. He has his supper at half six, a half dozen pellets and some fresh vegetables. He can have a biscuit after supper, two if he's well behaved and..."

 

"Sherlock! That's enough." John huffs at the taller man. "Sorry to impose Mrs. Hudson." She's smiling brightly at Sherlock, gently stroking the tiny bundle in his hands. She shakes her head as she steps back to let them into the flat. “Not at all...so does that mean I can't share my glass of sherry with him then, Sherlock?" Her tone is teasing and she winks at John as Sherlock sputters, clutching Jawnhog to his chest.

 

  
John chuckles as he puts the habitat down on the kitchen table and thanks god for Mrs. Hudson for what feels like the millionth time. She'd taken Sherlock’s littleness in the same stride she took everything else about Sherlock, with warmth and understanding.

 

"Just teasing, Love. You leave this little bit to me." She holds out her hands for Jawnhog but Sherlock just glares at her mutinously. "He cannot have sherry," He growls, his tone venomous.

 

Before John can step in to swat him for his tone, Mrs. Hudson steps closer to him, reaches up and strokes his cheek. Her other hand drifts to his chest and she gently pats Jawnhog's back. She smiles softly at him and he relaxes almost immediately. "Course not, Love. We'll have a spot of tea and watch the animal programs until you get back, alright?" He nods into her hand. She strokes him for a moment more before stepping back and holding out her hands.

Sherlock still looks apprehensive as he lifts the hedgehog to his face, touching their noses together. "I'll be back soon. Be a very good boy for Mrs. Hudson. London would fall without her." He touches their noses again before placing the hedgehog delicately in Mrs. Hudson’s open palms.

 

"Don't worry about us, we'll be fine. Enjoy your murder, dear." Sherlock stares longingly at the hedgehog, seemingly rooted to the spot.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.” John prompts as he steps up behind Sherlock, placing a firm hand on his back, steering him out the front door of Mrs. Hudson's flat.

 

“Yes, thank you.” Sherlock’s voice is soft as he allows himself to be guided out of the flat and into the hall.

 

They make it through the foyer and almost out the front door before Sherlock freezes, spinning on his heels, "I forgot to tell her about his..."

 

"Sherlock!” John interrupts, “Pet, if she can watch you while I'm away, I'm sure she can manage Jawnhog while you're away.“

 

Sherlock gasps in horror, "She's going to spank Jawnhog with the wooden spoon?!?" He struggles to get around John, but a firm hand on his chest keeps him in place.

 

"I doubt Jawnhog will be as naughty as you." John says with a smirk, earning himself a dark scowl. "And anyways, he knows good boys get rewards," John says soothingly, guiding a still resistant Sherlock out the door and onto the street.

 

"We can pick out a treat for Jawnhog after the case; and one for you as well, for being a very responsible pet owner." Sherlock preens under the praise as John hails a cab.

 

"What kind of treats?"

 

"Let's make it a surprise for later, yea?" John says, ushering Sherlock into the cab that had pulled up. "In the meantime, tell me more about the call from Lestrade."

 

* * *

"No Sherlock," John hisses as the detective makes to knock on Mrs. Hudson's door. It’s half past three in the morning; the black eye John’s sporting is making his head throb, and his shoulder aches fiercely from wrestling a gun from a murderer.

 

“But..."

 

"I said no. Now get your bottom upstairs before you earn yourself a smack." Sherlock's face crumples at that and fat tears start to pour down impossibly high cheek bones. John hangs his head and sighs.

 

"I promised Jawnhog I’d be back."

 

"You are back, Pet. Mrs. Hudson and Jawnhog are both sleeping, just like we should be. We'll come collect him in the morning. “

 

Sherlock looks longingly at the door before following John up the stairs. John helps him out of his coat and scarf on the landing. "Do you need the loo?" Sherlock shakes his head a fraction. Great, John thinks, love the silent treatment. "Alright then, go on up and get dressed for bed. It's too late for a real bath, but I’ll grab us a flannel to wash your face and hands." John guides him towards the stairs with a gentle pat to his bottom.

 

John isn't surprised when he finds Sherlock still fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed when he comes upstairs. At least he'd turned on the lamp. John puts the damp flannel and the cold pack he'd had pressed to his eye on the nightstand before crouching to pull off Sherlock's painfully expensive shoes.

 

Sherlock lets himself be undressed, but he doesn't help. John gets him down to his pants before turning to the dresser. Pulling out a t-shirt and sleep pants, he tosses them on the bed before taking up the flannel and washing Sherlock's face and hands. Sherlock huffs, the first noise he's made since John came upstairs, and tries to move his face out of the path of the flannel. But John's had plenty of practice and despite his sore shoulder; he makes short work of cleaning his face and hands. 

Done, he takes a step back; "Alright, let’s get it over with then. Tell Da' why he's such a dickhead for not allowing you to wake Mrs. Hudson at nearly four in the morning to retrieve your hedgehog." He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
Sherlock crosses his arms too, mimicking John's posture, but it only makes him look petulant. "Jawnhog is not asleep."

  
John blinks at him for a moment, "How could you possibly know that?"

  
"Hedgehogs are nocturnal."

  
"He puts up a hell of a fuss during the day for being nocturnal."

  
"He's awake and he thinks we've abandoned him."

  
"But we haven't. We'll prove it by getting him in the morning." John tosses the flannel in the hamper and starts to undress.

  
"We could get him now...we wouldn't have to wake Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock is looking at the floor.

  
"Are you suggesting we break into Mrs. Hudson's flat?" John turns in time to see Sherlock flinch at his tone.

  
"It's not breaking in if we use a key."

  
John sighs and rubs a hand over his face, wincing as he brushes against his swollen eye. "Put you're pajamas on, Sherlock. It's time for bed."

 

Sherlock picks up the t-shirt and turns it over in his hands, once, twice.

 

“You came and picked me up from Mrs. Hudson’s in the middle of the night.” He says it softly, almost too low for John to hear. He pulls the t-shirt on over his head; it’s inside out and backwards.

 

“Yes, I did.” John acknowledges. “You’re my friend, and my lover, and my little boy.” John says softly, sitting down next to Sherlock on the bed, leaning into his shoulder. “If you’d have been a Hedgie, I probably would have left you over night.” 

 

Sherlock manages a weak smile and leans back into John.

 

“Have you decided what you and Jawnhog want for treats?”

 

Sherlock shrugs pulling on his sleep pants before allowing John to nudge him towards the head of the bed and under the covers.

 

“Maybe Sherlock and Jawnhog would like to have movie night with Daddy tomorrow.”

“If there’s not a case on.”

 

“Of course.” John mumbles as he tucks Sherlock against his chest.

 

It only takes a few minutes of gentle petting before Sherlock is snoring lightly against his chest. John wonders vaguely what type of movies hedgehogs watch as he drifts to sleep.

* * *

“Daddy.”Sherlock whispers loudly into John’s ear. “Daddy. Wake up. It’s morning time.”

 

John groans, rubbing a palm across his face. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s quarter of six, Daddy. Good morning.” Sherlock peeps, dropping a kiss on John’s cheek.

 

“It’s still time to sleep.”

 

“I did sleeped. I can’t sleep anymore. I tried”

 

“Then you need to lie quietly and rest.”

 

“Can we have pastries and tea from the shop for breakfast?”

 

“Baby, you can either lie quietly and rest here with Daddy, or I can put you to bed by yourself downstairs.” Sherlock sniffles at this and John groans again and rubs small circles into the nape of Sherlock’s neck. “I would prefer you stayed here with me though.” Sherlock wriggles closer to John and snuffles into his shoulder.

 

“Can we have pastries?”

 

“Only after we’ve slept.”

 

“Jawnhog likes the ones with the honey.”

 

“Yes, I remember.”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock's leaning against Daddy’s chest as short sturdy fingers card through his hair. He suckles his fingers, seeking the last traces of honey. Sherlock and Jawnhog just finished their third piece of Baklava of the day.

 

  
“Bees are my second favorite animal.” Sherlock mumbles around his fingers, gently rubbing his chin on the tiny ball of quills snuggled there.

 

Daddy hums and kisses his temple, gently pulling his fingers from his mouth. “This movie is crap.”

“Jawnhog recommended it.”

 

  
“Don’t blame the poor hedgie for this nonsense.” Daddy says, tugging lightly on his ear.

 

“He personally endorsed it. Also Netflix suggested we might like it.”

 

“We’re not taking advice from either of them ever again.”

 

“Bees are going to be an endangered species soon cause of colony collapse syndrome.”

 

  
“I think this film in rotting Daddy’s already substandard brain.” John muses. “According to you, I’m only a few IQ points smarter than Jawnhog.” Sherlock wrinkles his nose and kisses Daddy’s jaw.

 

“Jawnhog is brilliant. You are tons smarter than average hedgehogs.”

 

“Ta’ Love.”

 

“I’ve studied Apiology some.”

 

“We really, really cannot have a bee hive in the flat.” John grimaces.

 

“No. I suppose not.”

 

“What is the study of hedgehogs called?”

 

“I don’t think there is a name for it.”

 

“What an outrage.”

 

“Jawnhog thinks so too. His outrage can only be soothed by more treats.” Sherlock looks up at Daddy hopefully.

“Jawnhog is cut off for making us watch this dreadful film.”

 

“Blame Netflix.”

 

“Netflix isn’t trying to eat their weight in pastries. I’m switching films. What does Jawnhog think of Bond?”

 

Sherlock scrunches his face. “Jawnhog would rather go to bed than watch your boring predictable Bond films.”

 

“We can probably arrange that.” A prompt kiss on the nose dispels Sherlock’s scowl. “This rubbish is almost over. Why don’t we put Jawnhog to bed and head upstairs so I can feed you the last piece of baklava?” John says with a sly grin. Sherlock’s pupils dilate, leaving a thin band of silver.

 

“You’re a filthy old pervert, and I just love you.” Sherlock smirks at him. “Come along Jawnhog, time for bed.” Sherlock scoops his tiny friend from under his chin before maneuvering off of the sofa to put the hedgie in his pen. John follows Sherlock off the sofa, swatting his bum on the way to the kitchen to pick up the last piece of pastry.

Sometimes Daddy’s need treats too.


End file.
